


Duel and Duality

by cryptonym



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Sex, Antagonism, Duelling, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptonym/pseuds/cryptonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently Potter and Malfoy don't know the difference between fighting and f***ing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duel and Duality

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the magnificent birdsofshore's [Anywhere But The Bed comment fest](http://birdsofshore.livejournal.com/72033.html) for the fabulous (and prolific) lumosed_quill's prompt:  
>  _In the middle of defence class_  
>  They're...duelling. Yes. Duelling....  
>  _*eyebrow goes up*._

It goes against the grain to turn his back on Malfoy, but since this is Defence Against the Dark Arts and some bright spark had the ingenious idea to pit the two of them against each other – the Saviour and the Death Eater. Harry’s not about to risk looking like a sulky child if he refuses. Besides, Malfoy’s already tried that.

Malfoy is looking at him with a distrustful sneer and Harry matches it with his own scowl. Harry tries to tune out the low hum of excitement from the other students surrounding them.

Malfoy stands right in front of him, looking down his pointy nose at Harry. “I am going to have you, Potter,” he drawls. “And then everyone is going to see you for the pathetic excuse of a wizard you truly are.”

“Defeated many dark lords lately, Malfoy?” Harry growls back.

“Oh please, you _died_ , that’s hardly a recommendation of your prowess with a wand.”

“Well, I beat _you_ once, and I can beat you again,” Harry says, furiously, nails digging into his palm making a fist and wishing to Merlin he could break something - preferably Malfoy’s face.

The corner of Malfoy’s lips twitches up in a sneer. “Shall we?” he says.

“Fine,” Harry grits out through clenched teeth.

They each bow and pace away from each other. When Harry turns, Draco is already facing him, waiting. They take up their stances and Harry can’t help but notice how elegant Draco looks, it tugs at something inside him. He pushes the feeling aside, correcting his posture, and puts on his game face.

They both cast at the same time, wordless, fast and furious. A bolt of blue light flares from the tip of Malfoy’s wand and Harry just manages to duck out of the way in time. It flies over the heads of the other students, some of whom scream in fright, and explodes on contact with the wall, sending down a shower of fragments and dust.

“Fucking hell, Malfoy, what are you trying to do, kill me?” Harry yells - his own Expelliarmus going wide and fizzling out harmlessly.

“Would it matter if I did?”

Harry’s blood runs cold at the words. “That’s not funny, Malfoy.”

“Who’s laughing?”

He knows Draco’s trying to get a rise out of him, but Harry’s anxiety takes the bait. He knows he wouldn’t come back again, he’s all out of extra lives.

Malfoy throws another hex without warning and Harry finds himself dancing uncontrollably, like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. He has a second to wonder when Malfoy would have even seen that, not exactly being the muggle movie loving sort.

“I don’t know what Skeeter was talking about, you are a _very_ good dancer,” Malfoy says, earning a laugh from the gathered students.

Harry’s hexes hit ceiling, floor, ceiling, floor as his hand goes up and down in time Stayin’ Alive, which he’s started humming, unable to resist, his face burning with humiliation.

“Oi, pack it in you ferrety git.” Ron’s voice calls from the midst of the murmuring mass.

Some of them laugh, nervously, then a group of Slytherins start clapping in time with Harry’s dancing feet, and Malfoy starts urging them on, conducting them.

Harry snaps, shaking off the hex. He doesn’t even think before casting an Incarcerous - blinding white ropes of magic fly from the end of Harry’s wand, wrapping around Malfoy’s chest and binding his wrists and ankles, drawing gasps from their audience. Another flick of his wand and Malfoy’s hands are jerked up above his head. The movement pulls Malfoy’s neatly tucked shirt from his trousers and Harry doesn’t catch himself in time to stop his glance downward.

Malfoy’s stomach is smooth and flat with the ghost of pale hair leading down past the waistband of his trousers.

Harry tears his gaze away, but too late. Malfoy has seen _everything_ , his eyes narrow in that calculating way he has and he opens his mouth to speak, Harry has a pretty good idea of what he will say. He gags Malfoy with another swish and flick of his wand.

Malfoy’s eyes widen with shock for a moment, followed by a fleeting glimpse of an emotion that Harry isn’t sure of before being quickly smothered by pure fury. If looks could kill and all that.

Harry forces a smug grin on to his face, approaching Malfoy with an imitation of the cocky swagger that Malfoy so often employs when it comes to him. Not that he’s been looking or anything.

“What’s the matter, Malfoy? Cat got your tongue?” There’s a smattering of giggles and Ron yells _yeah, that's it, Harry, you show 'im_.

Malfoy tugs fruitlessly at the bonds.

“Look at you, wriggling like a worm on a hook. _Squirming_ …” Harry is right up in Malfoy’s personal space now, very aware of the way Malfoy’s chest is heaving with exertion and anger and panic. He looks into Malfoy’s eyes, he doesn’t want to hurt him, not really – not ever again – just give him a bit of his own medicine. That’s when he sees the heat sparking there.

” _Fuck_ ,” Harry says, and it comes out as a whisper. Malfoy’s panicked expression intensifies, becoming _desperate_. There is a furious blush across Draco’s cheeks. Harry is so close he can feel the heat of him. Harry can’t stop looking he wants to know - _needs_ to know the cause.

Harry slides his finger inside the bindings around Malfoy’s chest, brushing across one hard nipple. He doesn’t imagine the catch in Malfoy’s breath or the soft gasp when he slides his finger back out again. And when he looks down he can see the bulge of Malfoy’s erection, clearly.

“Oh my god, you’re-” But Malfoy stops him with a pleading look. Harry wants to touch, so badly his hand is half way there before…

“Potter, untie Malfoy and go again.” Bill… _Professor_ Weasley’s voice cuts through the haze.

Harry nearly jumps out of his skin, looking around startled to find a lot of curious faces and his professor’s stern one.

“Uh, uh… I… sorry… I mean… sorry.” He releases Malfoy, the bonds falling away and disintegrating into nothing.

Malfoy looks _mortified_. His face is filled with shame and Harry has the terrible urge to comfort him in some way. But it would only make things worse.

It’s amazing really, the speed with which Malfoy pulls himself together – the blank mask that covers his humiliation. And Harry wants to say _don’t_. Don’t what he has no idea. His stomach is churning with butterflies, his palms sweating and he’s so hard he can barely think.

They’ve just taken up their positions again when Malfoy throws a charm that Harry doesn’t know. It feels like hands are stroking their way across his body, across his chest, tweaking his nipples, up his thighs, teasingly close to his cock, he can feel the whisper of ghostly fingertips over his balls and sliding down his back and over his arse, squeezing, sliding between his arse cheeks.

He’s not just hard he’s aching, his whole body flushed with heat, tingling, his impending orgasm building with terrifying speed and, Merlin, he can’t help but whimper.

Malfoy is advancing on him and Harry throws a desperate tripping jinx - the first thing that comes to mind. Malfoy stumbles and falls, taking Harry down with him, landing hard on top of him. The hand curse – charm? – is released as Malfoy’s concentration is shattered and he huffs out a breath, hot against Harry’s face.

“I’m going to kill you,” he says, furiously breathless.

“Is that what you’re going to do?” Harry asks, unable to stop himself as he feels something other than hate from Malfoy - pressed hard against him. Harry bucks his hips against Malfoy’s, as though he’s trying to throw him off, but holds on to his arms with a vice-like grip, keeping him right there.

“Bastard!” Malfoy struggles and wriggles on top of Harry, and Harry makes a pained, urgent noise in his throat.

He rolls them over, pushing down with the full weight of his body, to the accompaniment of an ever increasing volume of jeers and catcalls. "Wanker," he says.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Malfoy thrashes his legs and the hard length of his cock rubs against Harry’s, pushing him ever closer. He knows he’s going to come, right here, soon, in front of everyone. He doesn’t dare look up, even if he could tear his gaze away from Malfoy’s heated stare. He can hear Bill telling them “that’s enough, you can stop now”, with no idea how _fucking impossible_ that is.

The only thing in his mind now is making sure that Malfoy comes before him. With that thought he grabs Malfoy’s wrists, forcing them above Malfoy’s head, pressing them down against the hard wood floor and rolls his hips against Malfoy’s.

Malfoy’s eyes flutter closed, his face getting pinched and even pointier than ever, then he is shuddering under Harry, his body trembling uncontrollably, and that’s enough - _more than enough_ \- to bring Harry over the edge. He groans his head dropping to Malfoy’s shoulder.

“Right that’s enough.” Bill’s voice cuts right through the blissful haze and the shocked silence of the rest of the students.

Harry looks up dazed, sure that no-one could have mistaken that for anything other than what it was.

“Both of you had better go and get yourselves sorted out.”

Harry gets up, acutely aware of the come in his underwear, a quick glance at Malfoy confirms that he is feeling just as uncomfortable. Fortunately Bill… _Professor Weasley_ calls attention to the class and Harry casts a surreptitious cleaning charm at his crotch, before he’s even out of the room.

Malfoy rounds on him as soon as the door to the nearest bathroom closes behind them.

“How did you know? Have you been spying on me again, Potter?”

Harry opens his mouth to retort, but Malfoy shoves him back against the wall hard enough to wind him.

Before Harry can complain Malfoy’s mouth is on his, kissing him hard and desperate. But that isn’t the strangest thing. The strangest thing is that Harry kisses him back, just as frantically.

Malfoy looks down his pointy nose at Harry and says “I am going to have you, Potter.”


End file.
